#35.5, Weds., August 10, 2022

Historical setting: 589 C.E. King Guntram’s castle in Châlons

         At the King’s meeting we are discussing the complaints from bishops regarding Father Columbanus.

         Apparently Fr. Felix, the Priest of Châlons, is a defender and follower of Columbanus. I can see that if kings chose bishops, Felix would definitely be the bishop who is missing from this city.

         The King wants to discuss differences of Celtic and Roman order, “Are there more than just surface differences?” He asks. “Is there something in the depths of the faith, some secret of theology, or immaculate tidbit of wisdom that only holy men could know?”

         I shake my head, and glance at Father Felix, who is also not able to think of anything. Yet everyone is looking to me for an answer.

         “Your Majesty, the bible is the same, even the language of the bible is the same regardless of variations in spoken dialects. The creed is the same. The rule differs only a little. Father Columbanus requires more hours chanting psalms and confession is private while the Benedictine rule hears personal sins in the gathered group. But the sins are the same.”

         “I’ve heard enough then,” and the king abruptly stands and leaves the meeting followed by his entourage, leaving me and the priest and priest’s own following of monks to figure this out. 

         “I’m not sure what I said that the king found so disturbing.”

         Fr. Felix guesses, “You affirmed the king’s notions of those bishops. Guntram wants it to be known he is the temporal king, and things such as hair-styles and calendars are not of heaven but are of earth. It is Guntram who rules the earthly kingdom. I think, Brother Lazarus, the King would have the bishops concern themselves only with the heavenly kingdom and he thinks the bishops are over-reaching to worry over calendars and hair styles.”

         “I can affirm that. The bishops do seem to wield an unfettered share of earthly power, at least that is my opinion having been on a journey with messages of rebuttal.”

          Fr. Felix observes, “There’s a lot to it. This king spins webs with nuance. He surely didn’t need to hear anymore to know Father Columbanus meets his own political needs very well. Now the king is undoubtedly scheming a power play that only an earthly sovereign can wield.”

         The King’s servant has a request from the King that when we return to Annegray we will stop again here because the king wants us to take a message on to Father Columbanus. Apparently the King has a plan.

(Continues tomorrow)

#35.4, Tues., August 9, 2022

Historical setting: 589 C.E. King Guntram’s castle in Châlons

         I am graciously received by this king. As a messenger from Father Columbanus I am accustomed to greetings of disgruntlement from bishops. But here the king wishes to hear from me and he has lots of questions about Father Columbanus and the community at Annegray. Ana and I are assigned a posh guest room in the castle and I’m invited to dine at the king’s table in the great hall. Ana is seated with the royal ladies. And here we are also assigned a chamber servant who waits only on us — such luxury.

         A night as a guest in a king’s castle is an adjustment for us, having spent so many nights on the raw earth, or sleeping in the hay above the horses, or even worrying over the cost of pillows at an inn. Ana has never seen anything so elegant in all her few years.

         The king invited us to stay overnight because he wants me to meet in the morning with some of his advisors regarding his projects for new churches and monasteries within Burgundy.

         This new morning Ana is glad to spend her time in the library.

         At the meeting with King Guntram he is at the head of a long table with advisors all around. His first question is directed to me. “What am I hearing of rumors that the bishops surrounding Annegray are displeased with Father Columbanus?”

         “Your Majesty, the good father has addressed these complaints individually to the bishops. I’ve been delivering these messages.”

         “So what is the source of the rub?”

         “I believe the issues are the differences between the Benedictine Rule and the Celtic Monastic Rule. It’s about tonsure and calendar.”

         “Do you have personal knowledge of this conflict?”

         “In a way, I am aware, Your Majesty, Ana and I live very near the community of monks in a cottage which is associated with the ruin of the fort. But I’m not serving any bishop, and at this time I have no holy orders.  I was there as a layman.”

         “Good. So you have an unbiased opinion.”

         “Maybe not unbiased, because I have great regard for the Celtic Father and his following.”

         “As do I.” Answers the king.

         “And I also, Your Majesty.” Answers the young priest seated nearer the king at the table. And all around the table each man approves of the holy father regardless of having ever met him. Well, Father Felix has been there and knows of the Celtic Rule.

(Continues tomorrow)

Post #35.3, Thurs., Aug. 4, 2022

Historical setting: 589 C.E. Châlons

         This morning I deliver Father Columbanus’s message to Father Felix a bit hesitantly, asking him for whom it might have been intended. Even though it is addressed to “The Bishop of Châlons” he opens it and glances over the letter while we wait; then he explains to us that he knows Father Columbanus and he addressed it “Bishop” with a glimmer of humor. He showed me the letter. It begins “Greetings, Father Felix.” [Footnote 1] So now I see two church fathers who oversee monasteries subtly mocking the pomp of an elevated title.

          While we are here, also, Ana continues her relentless search. She asks the young priest if this building houses an ancient library. He suggests we ask about books at the King’s castle as the king has a number of recent acquisitions.  And he also affirms what we heard yesterday.  The king often stays in Châlons so I will be able to deliver that last message I have for the king directly to him while we are here.

         Now at the king’s castle the gatekeeper adds us to the list of visitors as ‘Envoy from Father Columbanus.’ I hand the gatekeeper the message I have brought from Tier without the same care I have for safe delivery of the father’s message to the king.

         Here Ana again asks about books. The King’s library, Ana discovers, is very much the same as King Chilperic’s. Actually Ana finds a whole section of volumes that King Chiperic once owned. We can only suppose that is because King Guntram inherited the books when his half-brother, Chilperic, was assassinated.

         King Guntram is the last surviving son of Clothar I who divided these lands of the Franks into the four kingdoms that now battle each other incessantly. The next generation of kings of Franks are yet very young and are ruling under regencies, whom it happens are the wives of Guntram’s brothers.[Footnote 2]

         One nephew of Guntram, Childebert II, rules Austrasia, the kingdom with all the disgruntled bishops we’ve been visiting on this journey. In the Vosges, Austrasia and Burgundy share a vague border. In some places the southern border of Austrasia is more clearly defined with Nuestra, which was Chilperic’s kingdom, and Nuestra also borders Burgundy.

         The books are not the only thing King Guntram has of Chilperic’s.  He also has his son. He adopted that nephew to be his heir, as he has no sons. Clothar II is a young child now, living in Orleans with his mother, who is currently the regent of Chilperic’s swath.

[Footnote 1] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Felix_of_Burgundy retrieved 12-1-2022. It is an enigma for historians, but a fiction writer’s ‘ah-ha’ that Châlons of Burgundy, while missing a bishop, did have a “Felix” who showed up several decades later in Britain, as a bishop, then a saint, related to St. Columbanus. He was called Felix of Burgundy. (The bishop’s portrait copied into the art of this blog is from St. Peter, Mancroft, Norwich. posted in this wikipedia article noted.)

[Footnote 2] Navigating the political scene of the Merovingian dynasty is easier with a genealogy chart. A good one is Appendix A, (p. 232-233) of Geary, Patrick J. Before France & Germany: the Creation & Transformation of the Merovingian World, New York: Oxford Press, 1988.

(Continues Tuesday, August 9, 2022)

Post #35.2, Weds., Aug. 3, 2022

Historical setting: 589 C.E. Châlons

         The stable master directs us to an inn with a private sleeping room for a man and woman together. I don’t think either of us will sleep until we settle this hurt between us. We talk in the dark, long into the night.

         We decided we will spend the coin and stay at this inn another night before we look for this priest so I can deliver to him the message addressed to the “Bishop of Châlons.” Today, all we will do is search for a knowledgeable shepherd.

         It turns out the stable master here knows exactly the person Ana is seeking. This is the one he calls on for wisdom with horse woes, and this fellow happens to be a shepherd. So this morning we find this wise man at the shearing shed in the countryside we had passed through yesterday when we were seeing all the sheep. He hears Ana’s need and they talk for several hours. He marks with charcoal on a freshly shorn sheep showing the location of the internal parts so that she can see the place on the sheep for a surgeon’s blade that could save both the lamb and the ewe. Ana studies it carefully and uses the charcoal to mark a flat stone with her own notes.

         As we mount our horses to go back to the city this elder shepherd takes me aside to tell me he understands her fear. “A young bride often fears for her life in birthing her first child.”

         He must think Ana is with child and asking this for herself. He has a firm warning to me that sheep are nothing at all like human beings. I would argue that she is a physician planning to help another woman. But really, we only have to thank him for his guidance whatever was Ana’s reason for learning this.

         This afternoon we find this church in Châlons. Everywhere it is bustling with activity. Monks are meeting with the builders working from a vast foundation of an ancient basilica still used as a church. Father Felix is with a messenger for the King and he isn’t available just now so we make a plan to return in the morning.

         Two nights now, we’ve paid a royal price for a private room in an inn. The public stable we found has no traveler’s loft, and the monastery isn’t built yet.

(Continues tomorrow)


Post #35.1, Tues., August 2, 2022

Historical setting: 589 C.E. Châlons

         On this new morning we are riding toward Châlons. There are sheep grazing all around us by this road and Ana hasn’t forgotten my promise to take time to find a sober shepherd for her questions.  Somehow, what I intended as simply the point of view of drunken shepherds, that phrase “vexatious woman,” has come between us. Even though I clearly didn’t mean that was what I thought. I only meant the drunken shepherds might draw that generalization of all women. It was a misunderstanding. Our long ride is silent, except for her reminders of my promise.  I won’t try to twist it into an excuse, but I could mention that bishops perceive themselves as shepherds and right now we on our way to visit the Bishop of Châlons. But I think better of mentioning this thought of bishops as shepherds.  My jest wouldn’t lighten the mood, or even inform. I do know when not to speak.

         These silent hours of riding take us into the city. I ask a stranger to tell us where we might find the Bishop of Châlons. His answer is much more informative than a simple finger pointing to a direction.

         “There was once a Bishop of Châlons they say. St. Peter sent him here. These days we have a young priest minding the duties of the church.”

         “So there is no Bishop of Châlons?”

         “No. But Fr. Felix is a fine young priest.” He glances at Ana. “He will gladly hear your confessions.”

          “Which way is the church?”

         He takes a long look to the north, so I can guess it is north. Then he explains, “It’s under construction these days. The monks who oversee the work answer to the young priest as though he were an abbot or bishop. King Guntram has an interest in all the new ways of the church and he guides our young priest in the upbuilding of Châlons. The King assures us Burgundy doesn’t need the sour notes of an old bishop in these new times.”

         Then Ana asks, “…and has Châlons any knowledgeable shepherds?”

         He ignores her question, and points me toward a construction site to the north.

         “It’s like no one can hear me,” she laments.

         We could go on to the church, but the sun is already setting and Ana and I, and our horses too, are hungry and irritable and tired. We’d best find a common stable with an inn.

 (Continues tomorrow)

Post #34.12, Thurs., July 28, 2022

Historical setting: 589 C.E. An inn on the road to Châlons

         Ana has serious questions about birthing sheep surgically, but these men aren’t at all interested in her need to learn. It might be my own wisdom of the ages, or just my gender, but I can see Ana’s persistence and fearlessness is how she finds her way into troubles. Doesn’t she notice that these drunken men aren’t safe instructors in midwifery?

         “Ana” I interrupt, “let’s find a teacher for you among the shepherds near Poitiers. We should get some sleep now. We have a long ride tomorrow.”

         Now alone with Ana in the loft of the inn she’s angry with me; blaming me for calling her away from her instructors.

         “Ana, those men were drunk. And they had no concern at all about your need to learn how to deliver a lamb. They were eyeing you as an object of vexatious womanhood. They weren’t trustworthy.”

         “Vexatious womanhood?” She says that slowly with her teeth clenched, and her glaring blue eyes icy cold and piercing me.

         “I didn’t mean that as it sounded.  I meant, they aren’t seeing you as the wise physician, but as their own idea of woman… But clearly they aren’t knowledgeable of women.”

         “’Vexatious’ is not a shepherd’s word. It’s your word Laz. First you soothe my fears of men, showing me only pirates and my own wayward imagining makes me afraid and now that I’ve learned to trust, you say I actually should fear men even when they know something I wish to learn. I think you are trying to control me.”

         “Control you? Ana, no one can control you. Not even me, your husband who only wants you to be safe!  Don’t you see how your fearlessness sets you in danger?”

         “In danger of what? Two drunken shepherds?”

         “Especially two drunken shepherds. They’re the worst kind of shepherds. I promise you Ana, we will search out some sober shepherds with all the lambing experience you wish to discuss, and you may meet with them in a way more suited to your gifts for learning.”

         “You have to promise we will take time out for that. I need to know this, Laz. I really need to know.”

         “I promise. Good night Ana. I love you.”

         Dear God, thank you for letting me be the safe arms for Ana while she learns what to fear. Amen. I can see fear is a necessary boundary she hasn’t yet learned to navigate.

(Continues Tuesday, August 3)

Post #34.11, Weds., July 27, 2022

Historical setting: 589 C.E. An inn on the road to Châlons

         Men gather on their way at the board of this inn where ale is served. It seems it may be unusual here to bring one’s young wife to this place, but they also serve a fine dish of porridge and we are both hungry after a day riding. Two shepherds snarl and glance at one another to assure us they see Ana as an intruder. And she’s not one to go to a women’s table with her porridge just to suit the norms of gender, and besides, I’m here.  She doesn’t fear men’s glances in this circumstance, so she makes it her intent to break the social rule by asking them more about their work than they offered.

         “Were all of the lambs born this year without the need of a midwife?”

         This elicits actual laughter; then one wipes the foamy drool from his lips, and notices she has a serious question. 

         “No, not this year.” Said that one. “Old Shlag had to come out to the pasture with his blade, and sliced the old ewe right in her belly and fetch out that twisted lamb.”

         “Really?” Ana is incredulous.

         “It were bloody.” announced the other shepherd.

         “Really? More bloody than a normal birthing?” Ana asked in all seriousness.

         Then the two shepherds argued among themselves about this comparison. They needed extra ale to figure this all out. One staggered back a bit to make the great pronouncement.

         “The lamb and the ewe both walked away from it live!”

         “Both the mother and the baby lived?” Ana asked.

         “It were the miracle of Shlag’s blade!”

         Now Ana’s questions have purpose. She wants to hear the details bloody or not.

         “Shlag is an old shepherd” said one.

         “Shepherd of shepherds” said the other.

         “Like a master of shepherds,” encourages Ana.

         “More like the king of shepherds,” says the first.

         “Kings are born of kings. Shepherds are born of shepherds, and they have the knowledge of the ages – Just like kings know saving the rule, shepherds also only know one thing — saving the sheep.”

         “So would you say this gift for surgery is something common that comes from ancient knowledge of shepherding?” asks Ana.

         “Shhh, yes’m.”

         “Is it common? Or is this the first anyone has seen it?”

         “It were a first for me, but Shlag says it happens.”

         “How did he know where to put his blade for the cut?” asked Ana.

(Continues tomorrow)

Post #34.10, Tues., July 26, 2022

Historical setting: 589 C.E. An island in a river

         Ana says she will be glad to spend these soft summer nights camping by the river washed in the beauty of earth. The river invites these mythical meanders in our imaginations. And we are under the the waxing moon that rises in the afternoon and sets Ana into what she calls, the rigors of woman. I happen to think the whining of it is the rigors of man. I have no experience as a base for my empathy. I’m not sure if it is just grief in knowing there is no baby growing toward birth this month or if it is a physical hurt. But we do take a slower pace these few days. And we make our camp on one of the secluded wooded islands between the river and the shallow fresh water creeks tatting the plain of this valley.

         So here we are, like first man and first woman, basking naked in the warm sun of this place; we are like the people of an Eden but here we are in the middle of a real world.  The horses dine on oats and beautiful grasses. They dip into the water, refreshed, as we are also. These waters are rich with écrevisses, as good as any lobster from the sea.  Add to that the gathering of fresh berries, and our own loaves of barelybread, and we could never think of our necessary tasks again.

         Now the moon has waxed to gibbous rising in the daylight, and setting softly brushed in the summer breeze. The last thing Ana said tonight with words were, “let’s just stay here for ever and ever.” The good things said with no words fill the whole of this night. Thank you God. 

         In the morning we will cross the river and go on our way back to our appointed tasks.

         Our clothes are clean in the cold creek and fresh in the sun, and the horses are rested and fed.  We are ready for the rocky ruins, the mud paths, and arguing bishops of the tangible world as we cross over the river toward Châlons.

         We find an inn this night, and here there is a dining board where they serve ale. Two shepherds imbibe, preparing to go off to the pastures tomorrow with the new lambs of last spring, old enough now to join the flocks for their first taste of summer grasses. We try to seem interested then Ana asks them what may seem a prying question. 

(Continues tomorrow)

Post #34.9, Thurs., July 21, 2022

Historical setting: 589 C.E. Reims to Châlons

         I know Bishop Gregory is not one to use his high ecclesiastical office to make political accusations, but in his secular writings, like the “History of the Franks” for example, he might float rumors supporting his own grudges. All these twisty tales of kings and bishops settling with the dusts of Gaul in the ruins of Rome could be completely ignored by an Irish father, a foreigner to these shores. Columbanus came here for his wilderness pilgrimage. He was seeking desolation and solitude. But, unknown to the father, Columbanus’s journey might have turned political when he and his followers stopped to ask permission from King Guntram to establish an isolated community for his little band of Irish monks. Now it is obvious this so-called, “wilderness” that seemed to belong to no one is really the heartland of Gaul with roads and bridges, rivers and cities and overlapping boundaries of three kingdoms of the Merovingians. Here boundaries are usually settled by annihilating warfare, assassinations and atrocity. 

         I can see here what happened. The humble, but well-spoken father from the Celtic islands took his request to the King, and Guntram graciously offered him the Roman Ruin of a fort in the Vosges mountains. The desert father saw it as a wilderness. The king saw it as a far away, hard to reach borderland he wished to secure because it pushes into the kingdom of Austrasia. So here I am delivering the father’s kind letters to a bevy of power hungry bishops in the midst of it all trying to reconcile details of tonsure style and the choice for an Easter date.

         Our Journey to Reims has nothing for Ana’s quest, and my simple task of handing a letter to the bishop was hardly successful either. But we’ve learned a bit more about the nature of this place.

         We are heading to the last stop on the iron seller’s map, Châlons. 

         From there we will go on as best as we can find our way with no map. From Sens we will be but a day’s ride to the headwaters of the Loire.

         This leg of our journey will take us a few days and will have less of the aristocratic accommodations like city inns, so we prepare by purchasing some oats and several loaves of barley bread to accompany our foraging through an ironically well-populated “wilderness.”

 (Continues Tuesday, July 26)

Post #34.8, Weds., July 20, 2022

Historical setting: 589 C.E. Reims

         The edges of kingdoms that meet in this vague land we travel may explain Reims. Like the aristocratic heritage of bishops, this city itself is steeped in ancient politics. It’s the legendary place of baptism and coronation of Clovis and Kings of the Franks to follow.  Now the bishop is Egidius. But he isn’t here today to receive this messenger in person. So I must trust his assistant to pass the father’s letter along to him. The assistant tells me the bishop is off with an envoy of dukes and royals visiting kings, not with words of peace in the name of God, but with rumors and accusations. Apparently Egidius has far worse issues with the kings and bishops of these lands than does Father Columbanus.

         The assistant doesn’t tell me this.  But Ana learns of it in her inquiries about medical books and women practitioners. She doesn’t find what she is looking for here, but rumors run rampant through huddles of women who aren’t stopped from gossip-mongering by any rules of silence or by the decorum of royal politics.

         Ana said it is rumored that Bishop Egidius had been touting a close friendship with the late King Chilperic. That’s the king, of course, who made the commoner Bertigan into a count and gave him land. It was not unusual for Chilperic to give away lands, so part of this rumor could have merit. But I know Bishop Gregory of Tours considered himself to be that King’s bishop because Chilperic was King of Nuestria. Then, of course, he and Chilperic had that little tiff over the essence of Trinity. But I’m certain Gregory wouldn’t want to hear that this other bishop, the Bishop of Reims claimed to be good friends of Chilperic. And now Childebert’s kingdom of Austrasia is trying to lay claim to villas that once had belonged to Chilperic as the dead king’s riches are divvied up. It is discovered that Bishop Egidius claims some of these valuable estates were gifted to him. He even seems to have the personal papers from Chilperic that support this. So the kings and even Gregory Bishop of Tours are all wondering how it happens that Egidius’s folio is so fattened by gifts from a king too dead to speak for himself. There seems to be a question of signatures. [footnote]  

         In these times kings and bishops are both ruling aristocracy. Kings wage wars with atrocities. Bishops wage wars with rumor.

[footnote] In 599 Egidius was defrocked and exhiled to the city now known as Strasbourg, found guilty of conspiracy to assassinate King Guntram’s heir. The notion that Egidius had forged Chilperic’s signature on the documents proving the gifting of the villas has not been substantiated by any source but the “History of the Franks” by Bishop Gregory of Tours and he had some skin in that game. Information for this note is from Gregory of Tours: the Merovingians, edited and translated by Alexander Callander Murray, Broadview Press, 2006. Page 227

(Continues tomorrow)